


Curiosity Killed the Cat

by Plagg



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, jdfalksgj i'm still so proud of this one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 13:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plagg/pseuds/Plagg
Summary: Virgil had a notebook. And Logan was dying to know what was in it





	1. Satisfaction Brought it Back

Virgil had a notebook. A kind of worn out, once black notebook with purple pen scratches all across the front. The others rarely got to see this notebook, but they were well aware of its existence. For the most part, no one dared to ask what it was for or if they could see it. No one, not even Patton, was curious enough to risk the little bit of trust and confidence building between them and the anxious side. 

That is…until Virgil got more confident and trusted them more.

The notebook made its way out of his room more and more, finding its way onto the coffee table, dining table, the counters, and the sofa much more often. Every now and then one of them would catch Virgil with his knees to his chest scribbling away in the book, and just _seeing_ it drove them crazy.

To say that Logan wasn’t dying to know what was in the book would have been the biggest lie ever told in the mind palace. As the logical side, he was also the side that enjoyed learning the most. Learning, observing… _dying of curiosity_. Secrets were not his thing. They were not his “jam.” What _was_ his “jam” was figuring out why Virgil hid the notebook when he was using it.

And now, he had an opportunity.

“Be right back,” Virgil mumbled. The anxious side hopped up from his spot on the other end of the sofa and dragged his notebook into his spot. Logan watched him leave and round the corner to his room, and it didn’t take long for all of that curiosity to come rushing to the forefront of his mind.

What could be in this mysterious notebook? Drawings? Logan thought of all the possibilities for Virgil Drawings. From a Tim Burton-esque style all the way down to an Invader Zim style. Mainly monsters or gore…or possibly he’d be full of surprises and fill the notebook with drawings that calmed him? Kittens, puppies, maybe a few koalas or red pandas? Or maybe he was a classic early 2000s emo child and filled his notebook with stitched-up, bandaged-up, and bleeding hearts? 

Perhaps the notebook contained his thoughts. What a trip that would be. Thoughts and analyses of ever scenario Thomas encountered. It’d probably be a mish-mash and assorted lists of words indecipherable to anyone but Virgil.

But then…Virgil had said before that he wrote. Sonnets, at least. Could this notebook be his writings…?

Logan caught his hand gravitating toward the book, and he snatched the offending digits back against his chest. No, he couldn’t. He would not be the first to break. Virgil would share the contents of the book when he felt he was ready, and Logan would just have to respect that. 

…But he wouldn’t even know if Logan took a quick peak just to see what Virgil used the notebook for…

…But that would still be abusing Virgil’s trust. He left the book there out of _trust_. 

… _But_ -!

“I’m back,” Virgil announced, throwing himself down on top of the book. He pulled it back out from underneath himself and opened it up to wherever he’d left off. “Needed a different blue.”

Ah. Drawings. Had to be.

…Right?

* * *

Logan’s curiosity had yet to die off a week later. All four of them sat around the dining table for breakfast, and after eating they all stuck around the kitchen, taking the day as a lazy day. Virgil stayed sat at the table hunched over his notebook, a purple pen in his hand this time. 

Logan watched him, barely paying attention to Roman as the creative side spat off about whatever adventure he’d been on the day before and how he’d hurt his neck rescuing some…royalty, Logan assumed. No matter, it wasn’t like there’d be a quiz.

“Are you even _listening_ to me, Logan?!” Roman whined.

“What?” Logan turned to face him, holding back laughter at the frustrated look on Roman’s face.

“While you simply read about these kinds of adventures, _I’m_ living them!” Roman exclaimed in that whiny voice of his that Logan so detested. “Why, you’re more interested in whatever Wednesday Addams over there is doing than my _actually interesting_ story!”

“Falsehood, I was paying _neither_ of you any mind!” Logan insisted. At this point, Virgil had looked up, squinty-eyed as ever, to figure out _what the heck_ was going on with these two. Logan looked over at him when he heard a snicker, and he caught sight of lines and lines and lines and _lines_ of words. So, he didn’t draw in the notebook; it was for writing.

…But writing _what_?!

Before he could figure it out, Virgil flipped the book shut and got to his feet, tucking the notebook in his jacket. “I’m gone; you two are way too noisy.”

“Look what you did, Roman.”

“ _ME_?!”

“Alright, you two, who wants to help me make muffins?!” Patton called as he bound into the dining room holding up a recipe book.

* * *

Now Logan was just getting frustrated. He’d been so good up to this point! Now he had a glimpse of the inside of the notebook and all of its overwhelming amounts of blue and purple and green writing, and he _desperately_ wanted to read it. Unfortunately, the unmade muffins were getting the brunt of his anger. 

“Logan, be careful stirring the blueberries!” Patton’s increasingly shrill concern snapped Logan back, and he looked down at the bowl before deciding that, yep, he’d done a good job mixing. “I will take that…” Patton said, slowly removing the bowl from Logan’s hands.

Logan groaned and dropped his head onto the counter, gently banging his forehead against the corner. He couldn’t take this anymore. He was going to lose it.

“Is there any reason you’re suddenly so grumpy?” Patton asked as he scooped the muffin batter out into paper liners. 

“It’s…nothing…” Logan said.

“Now you and I both know that’s not true. Has it got something to do with Virgil’s notebook?”

“You’ve noticed…”

“Well, it’s not every day you lose control of your curiosity, Mr. Calm and Collected.” Patton had a point, Logan supposed. Why did Logan care so much? Before this point he’d chalked it up to him being naturally curious as apart of who he was, but now… “Why don’t you just ask Virgil if you can read it?”

Logan shook his head rapidly, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter heavily. “Curiosity killed the cat, remember,” he said.

“Ah, but satisfaction brought it back.” Patton smirked and gave Logan a wink, nudging his side to make Logan move away from the drawer he needed in. “If you don’t want to ask him, fine. But I’m sure he’d share…”

“Why do act so confident about that?”

“No reason…” The grin on Patton’s face was more than concerning, but Logan could only take one obsession at a time.

* * *

Logan stood in the doorway to the commons room just watching Virgil scribble away in his notebook. He had to ask, just say _something_ to end this yearning. But…why was he so nervous? His stomach felt off, not sick, but _wrong_ , the longer he watched Virgil write. 

Virgil moved and rested his cheek in his right hand, and wow now it looked like he was doodling. Logan covered his mouth to fight off a smile, wondering why in the world Virgil was so _cute_ like that. This was all too much; Logan had to put an end to it. Ugh.

“Verge – Virgil,” Logan called, making the anxious side jump.

“Just use an air horn next time, why don’t you!”

“My apologies,” Logan said, moving farther into the room. He gingerly took a seat not too far from Virgil, just an arms’ length between their knees, and he looked at the notebook. Virgil followed his eyes and snatched the book, slamming it shut. “So…” Logan started, daring himself to just _ask already_ , “…what is it that you fill that mysterious notebook of yours with?” he asked slowly. Finally, _finally_ the words were out and the answer, be it rejection or truth, was right in front of him. Hallelujah.

“What does it matter to you?” Virgil asked, guarding the book with his knees.

“Well…” _Think of a good reason_! “As we are all making a better effort to get to know you and include you, I should think that a good way to do just that would be learning about what you can and do put to paper.” _Nailed it_.

“Ummm…” Virgil’s eyes darted back and forth, never landing on Logan. He concentrated them on his socks eventually, going silent. Logan could watch the gears turning in that nervous mind, and his heart ached to know what was going on in there. Gah, what was wrong with him?! “I –“ Oh? “I _guess_ there’s some stuff you can look at…” 

…Satisfactory.

Logan watched as Virgil flitted through the pages, scanning quickly yet carefully each one until he found one he was willing to share. Virgil handed the book over and dropped his face so only his eyes were visible over his knees. Logan greedily looked over the page, taking in every single thing about it. 

The page was very brittle, very fragile. How old was this notebook? So many things on the backside of the page had been scratched out and scribbled out, to the point that holes poked through to the side he read. Navy blue ink filled his page, which was good because at least he could comfortably read navy blue. Then, with the page absorbed, he could finally _read_.

…Poetry. Huh. And not sonnets.

 _Keeping me grounded must be an awful job,_  
Though you do it well.  
I’m whiny, insufferable, and unbearable,  
But you take on my personal Hell  
And give me a minute at most in your Heaven.

“OK, that’s enough!” Virgil snatched the book away, face red as could be. 

It wasn’t enough, it couldn’t be enough. Five lines that read like _that_ was basically a cliffhanger, and it wasn’t fair. But, Logan had to respect Virgil’s boundaries. No matter how frustrating they were. Maybe…maybe he could test his limits? “You are a very good writer, Virgil,” he said.

“Thanks, I guess…” Virgil mumbled, tucking the notebook back into his jacket. 

“You must write from experience?” There, Logan threw out his line, and he hoped Virgil hooked on. 

“Yeah, what else would I have? Roman’s the creative one…” Virgil said. His sleeve found its way into his mouth and he looked at the ground. Great, he was anxious and uncomfortable, and he was making Logan feel bad. 

Just. Not bad enough.

“Who were you writing about in that poem?” Logan asked.

“…It doesn’t matter.”

Oh, but it did. It very much did matter who Virgil was writing about, because it was _killing_ Logan. He was sure he’d burst any minute and now he understood exactly how those curious cats felt when they were ready to just _die_.

“Well, it must matter if whoever it was does so much for you,” Logan said. 

“Don’t worry about it!”

“And that is supposed to make me not?”

“Really just – it doesn’t matter, Logan!”

“Then why do write them to mean so much?!”

“Because I just felt like it!”

“Well if you felt like it, then you must believe the words you put down, which means –“

“Would you stop!”

Logan shut up. Clamp – jaw screwed shut – no more talking for him. He really wanted to ask why it was big deal, but he refrained. An angry Virgil was a dangerous Virgil. Possibly. None of them had ever seen him truly angry.

“Look…” Virgil took a deep breath and brought back out his notebook. “Everything in here is really personal. I just…I dunno why I even let you look at it at all; I guess I trust you, but…maybe not for everything.”

Well, just rip out his heart and stomp on it. Not like Logan wanted that useless thing, anyway. “You can trust me.”

Virgil bit his lip, nearly tearing a hole in it if his force was anything to judge by. God, why couldn’t he just _trust Logan with all of his secrets, PLEASE Virgil!_

“It’s you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The poem, you idiot!”

Oh. Oh! _Oh_. That explains a lot. “May I read the rest of it, then?” Logan asked, hoping with all his hope that Virgil would say yes. 

“I…nu-uh. Not – not yet.”

He should’ve assumed that answer. Of course, Logan still had to be there for Virgil. He had to live up to the poem and be what Virgil saw in him. His anchor, the one that grounded him. The one that gave Virgil a piece of Heaven.

“I will not pry any more, I promise,” Logan said, pretending his useless hunk of heart didn’t leap when Virgil gave him a smile. “So, would you want to watch a movie?”

“Wanna watch Scooby Doo?” Virgil asked.

“If that is what you want, then yes.” 

It didn’t take long for the two to get comfortable on the sofa, Zombie Island starting on the television. Virgil slumped against Logan, resting his head on the logical side’s shoulder. Logan rested his head on top of Virgil’s, and he now realized what was exactly meant by the end of that famous phrase. No, he didn’t get all of his answers, and he still had questions, but for the moment he was happy with what he knew. Virgil trusted him with a little snippet of his mind, and nothing could be more satisfying in that moment than that.


	2. Finishing Sentences

Virgil stood in the doorway watching Patton for a moment, building up his nerve. In his hands he held his notebook, turned to the latest page he’d blacked out and written over once again. The bright purple pen was a tad hard to see on the black nail polish he’d had to use to black out the page, but it was the best he had and Patton didn’t need to read what was underneath that anyway.

Granted, Virgil wasn’t so sure anymore that the moral side needed to read what he was about to present to him. Maybe he should just leave. He could try again later. He could –

“Verge, what’s up?”

Virgil jerked his head up in surprise when he saw Patton standing up, a plastic cup in his hand. “Umm…” Virgil started, shifting where he stood. “I just…I wanted to ask if you’d give me some advice…O-on what I wrote! Not, like, life or something! Just…writing advice…”

Patton seemed suspicious, but he shrugged it off and gave a grin, plopping back down on the sofa and patting the seat beside himself. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Virgil peeled himself away from the wall and dragged his feet to Patton’s side, presenting the notebook with one shaky hand. Patton took off his glasses and held the book up to his face to read. 

_In a dungeon far below the ground lived a boy that no one could love. He was so sad and so angry; he even lashed out at the guards that protected him. If you are wondering now why he couldn’t be loved, well, it was because everyone believed he was evil. And, he adjusted to fit the role._

_In a tiny house not too far away lived a school teacher. He was sweet and gentle, and he had such a love for learning that no one could help but be excited with him. Though, the man also had a habit of being very literal and very no-nonsense on his bad days._

Patton looked up at Virgil, a grin spreading across his face. “Interesting choice of characters, son.”

Virgil squirmed and swiped at his nose, egging Patton on to continue reading. Dad was on to him, but hopefully this would be all he’d acknowledge.

_One day, the teacher was invited to the prison to come down and try to teach the unlovable boy. He obliged and went down with a bag of books heavier than anything the boy had ever seen. The guards warned the teacher about the boy, which made him snarl and hiss behind his bars._

_“He’s always so angry and mean!”_

_“We’ve been working with him for months.”_

_The teacher just smiled and nodded, having them let him in the dungeon cell._

_“You might as well leave,” the boy spat._

_The teacher simply huffed and rolled his eyes, taking a seat across from the boy. “Let’s start with some basics. What is your name?”_

_Taken aback, the boy didn’t respond. So, the teacher asked again. “M-my name? I…I don’t know.”_

_“That’s alright. What name do you want, then?”_

_The boy thought and thought, trying to come up with something cool and_ _lovable. “Vincent?”_

“Vincent’s a nice name,” Patton said, eliciting a tiny squeak from Virgil. The moral side continued reading, enjoying his strange edgy son’s writing. He was so obvious and so cute.

_The teacher smiled and nodded, pulling something out of his bag. “Alright, Vincent, nice to meet you. My name is Lawrence.” Vincent nodded, eyeing what Lawrence had pulled out of his bag. A chalk board? He scribbled something across the board and held it up for Vincent to see. “Do you know what this says?”_

_Vincent squinted and leaned forward, trying to figure out the letters one-by-one. No luck._

_Lawrence gave him a smile and told him it was alright that he didn’t know. “That’s what your name looks like written out. V-I-N-C-E-N-T.”_

_Oh! Vincent had never read before; no one wasted their time on him. “Could you…show me your name?”_

_Over the next week, the two met for hours on end. Lawrence taught Vincent how to write and read, taking children’s books in to read to the boy. They laughed and had fun learning, and a small feeling started to bubble up in Vincent. Lawrence brought a smile to his face like no one and nothing had ever done before. Was this what it was like to love?_

Ooh, now they were getting into the juicy stuff! Lawrence…Lawrence…Logan. The relationship seemed similar to Virgil and Logan’s own, with the logical side teaching techniques and terms to Virgil for help with his anxiousness mirroring Lawrence teaching Vincent how to read. Things that seem so simple that can be nearly impossible to those who were never taught.

_Of course, not like Vincent would ever get to know. Lawrence simply was doing his job, and he’d be gone within a few weeks._

_“Vincent?” Lawrence called, knocking gently on the door to the boy’s cell. “How are we doing today?”_

_“Eh,” Vincent answered._

_“Well, we’ll have to fix that!” Lawrence said decidedly, plopping down beside Vincent. “What’s say we work on writing today, yeah?”_

_“Alright,” Vincent said with a shrug. He slipped off his bed and reached underneath for his chalk board. Once settled back down beside Lawrence, the teacher jotted something down on his own board._

_“Can you tell me what this says?” he asked, holding the board up._

_“Uhhh…” Vincent had never seen this word before. He recognized the letters, but…not all together._

_“Take it one letter at a time and sound it out, Vinny.”_

_“L…ehl, luh,” he started, “O…oh…V…vhhh…E. Luh-oh-vee?”_

_“Close,” Lawrence said, a smile on his face. “The ‘e’ is silent this time, remember how those work?”_

_“So it’s Luh-ohv. Loaf?”_

_“Not quite, take out the ‘uh’ sound.”_

_“…Love!” So that’s what that word looked like! But, why? Why would Lawrence show him this word? Vincent didn’t think he was that cruel!_

_“Now, think we can make a sentence with that?” Lawrence asked. Vincent nodded, but he did not make the sentence he wanted to because he was the biggest wimp in the entire world and he didn’t want Lawrence to hate him even though he was the closest anyone had ever come to loving Vincent and the only person Vincent had bothered to love ever and wHY DON’T YOU JUST MAKE THAT STUPID SENTENCE YOU IDIOT._

Well. Alrighty then. 

“Well?” Virgil asked, squirming in his seat. “What…what do you think? About the story, I mean.”

“It’s…why is Vincent hesitant of making the sentence?” Patton asked. Virgil shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. 

“He doesn’t want to get his hopes up and have Lawrence break his heart, obviously…” Virgil answered.

“But Lawrence taught him the word and wants him to make the sentence…Wouldn’t that mean he loves him back?”

Virgil shook his head and took his notebook back, folding it shut and hiding it in his jacket. “He could be faking it to trick Vincent…or just be tolerating him until his teaching job is over. Thought he’d have some fun while he could?”

Well now, Patton couldn’t let Virgil think so lowly of himself. Love was meant to be a happy feeling, a bunch of butterflies dancing in your tummy and a grin that just can’t go away. His sweet and spicy son deserved butterflies, not pterodactyls. So, Patton leaned close and took one of Virgil’s hands, a sincere and serious look on his face. “I think Vincent should write that sentence.”

* * *

“Ughhhhh, you’ve been sitting there for an _hour_ and you only have four lines!” Roman whined, draping himself across the dining table. Logan scowled at him and shoved the creative side away from his paper. “For someone that was so great at freestyle rap, you’re terrible at writing poetry.”

“Poetry is complicated. It’s flowery language, metaphors, and misunderstood wording! Excuse me for not getting it perfect on the first try.”

“But you’re first try hasn’t even _finished_.” Roman leaned in closer, trying to catch a glimpse at Logan’s poor poetry. “What are you even writing this for? I could help, you know.”

“No, absolutely not.” Logan snatched the paper up and held it to his chest to block it from Princey’s view.

“Oh, come on!” Roman whined. “We could get this done if you just let me help you!”

“No, it’s meant to be personal!”

“Why? I’m wonderful with poetry!”

“No, you wonderful with quoting Shakespeare!”

“That’s beside the point; why won’t you let me help?!”

“You have a big mouth! You’ll tell Virgil!”

With two blinks and deep breath, Roman let out a teasing little “ooooooh!” Logan’s face reddened and struggled to gather enough words to correct himself. He was screwed. Utterly and completely screwed. Roman would tell, and there wasn’t much he could do unless he locked the fanciful side up in a soundproof closet with no cell service. “You…”

“Don’t.”

“Like…”

“Shut it!”

“Virgil!”

Logan lunged and covered Roman’s mouth. “Yes, OK, I’ll admit! Just keep your voice down for once!” Roman glared at him and licked Logan’s hand to get him off. 

“Fine, but I’m reading what you have so far!” he said as he quickly made for the paper Logan had been writing on. Before Logan could stop him, Roman was reading aloud.

“ _Keeping you grounded is easy to do_  
That much I know is true,  
But, putting up with my anger or tangents?  
Well, one way I can say my thanks is through an uneasy phrase.  
I”

“…You what?” Roman asked, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“Doesn’t matter; give it back!” Logan snatched at the paper, trying to catch it from Roman’s grip. Why did Princey choose him to pick on? Oh, yeah, they knew each other the longest. 

“I’m fairly certain the two other words you’re looking for are ‘love you’, am I wrong?”

Logan’s face burned hot, and he dropped his head onto Roman’s shoulder, giving in. The tiniest “no” slipped from his lips as he sat down fully on the creative side’s lap. He gave up; Roman was right. Gah, he was exhausted. Stupid emotions.

“Why don’t you just tell him this, then? Why go through all of this trouble?” Roman asked. He knew Logan had a hard time expressing emotions in a way other than blunt honesty, so why was he fighting that now?

“I can’t scare him off…” Logan mumbled, curling up into a little ball on Roman. “Who knows what will happen if Virgil gets scared by something like…me.” 

“Well, finish your line and…talk to him.” Roman said, giving a pat to Logan’s back.

“Finish the line?”

“Yes, it wouldn’t be right to leave it unwritten.”

* * *

Logan sat in his room, sprawled across his bed with his paper on his chest. He didn’t finish the line; he couldn’t. So much commitment fell on finishing that line, and he wasn’t sure he could stand to see that look on Virgil’s face if the anxious side didn’t reciprocate. He couldn’t take it back if it was written down.

Meanwhile, right outside his door, Virgil sat with his notebook in his lap. Patton had to be right; Logan wouldn’t encourage him the way he did if he didn’t feel…something. He came to his last sentence and groaned, reaching in his pocket for a sharpie to scratch out his own fussing. But, when he took a purple crayon to the paper, he found it impossible yet again to write what he wanted. His hand sat poised and ready to write, the words playing over and over in his head. Only one stroke was needed to get him writing, but that one stroke was _impossible_. Frustrated, Virgil slammed the notebook shut and gathered all his strength to chuck it across the hall and into the wall.

It seemed all the noise attracted Logan’s attention as his door cracked open. “Virgil?”

Said side jumped from where he sat, peering up at Logan with fear in his eyes. “I-I’ll move, sorry!”

“No, no, what’s wrong?” Logan asked, reaching out to snatch Virgil’s wrist when he tried to scramble away. Down the hall, Logan spotted the black notebook. Why would Virgil just throw it? Unless he got upset at it for whatever reason…why would he get so upset?a

“Don’t worry about it!” Virgil shouted, clawing at the hand around his wrist. He just wanted to run away, go hide, get far away from this climax in the story. From here, there were only a few different ways it could go, and Virgil didn’t want to find out which one it’d be. 

“Virgil, please.”

Logan’s voice broke. That in itself made Virgil stop. He looked up at the logical side to see the stress, the worry on his face. 

“Just…come in here for a minute.”

Virgil nodded and let Logan drag him inside. Once they sat on his bed, Logan hesitantly picked up the poem and presented it to the anxious side. He knew it still wasn’t finished, but if Roman could pick up on what he wanted to say…well, there was no way that Virgil would miss it.

At his side, Virgil started to tear up. Logan heard sniffles, and he saw Virgil wipe his nose, so he peaked under his bangs. “What’s wrong, Virgil?”

“Y-you can’t finish your sentence either…”

Logan smiled and pulled Virgil closer in a side hug. No, that wasn’t the actual issue. Either of their abilities to properly form a sentence had nothing to do with Virgil’s tears, Logan knew. They both loved each other, no matter how hard it was to say that.

“I love you, Lo…”

Logan gave a kiss to the side of Virgil’s head and rubbed his arm through the jacket. “I love you, too, Verge.”

“You better, or else this is really sappy.”

Logan laughed and shook his head. “This has nothing to do with tree sap.”

“…I will walk out of here.”

With a laugh, Logan tossed the both of them down, ignoring the yelp from Virgil. “You’re not allowed to leave!” he teased. The both of them laughed, and closer Virgil inched to Logan, the more the urge to kiss him fell over Logan. What would it be like? How would Virgil react? Would it be a pleasant experience? “May I kiss you?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned in enough to close the space between them. The kiss was quick and Virgil ducked his head, tucking it under Logan’s arm. 

Well, looks like that curiousness would have to be better explored later.


End file.
